One Step to Begin
by Atthla
Summary: Relationships with nothing to begin [Hijikata x Okita, Saitou x Susumu, references to HijikataSusumu]


**OneStep to Begin **

**Author: Atthla**

**Disclaimer:** Peacemaker Kurogane belonged to the talented _Nanae Chrono_ and the magnificent studio _Gonzo Digimation_

**Warning:** Male/male pairings, which are _Hijikata Toshizou/Okita Souji_ and _Saitou Hajime/Yamazaki Susumu_ (yes, finally a crack pairing...). There are also some spoilers mentioned since it takes place after the anime ends. I'm not sure where this should happen according to the manga's timeline though. This is also unbeta-ed, which means be prepared for many grammatical mistakes. Oh, and I'm using some Japanese phrases. There is a short dictionary at the end if you need references.

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The screen door slid open and a pair of violet-blue eyes stared down.

Yamazaki Susumu looked up and stared back, making no other attempt to move than the slight tilting of head. He had never been particularly afraid of Okita Souji, because – of course, as a shinobi – not even the captain of the first squad with his fearsome, demonic skill could outrun his speed. But now, even with his current position where getting-up-and-fleeing-from-the-scene was far from possible, he could still meet the stare head on, coolly and calmly. No reason to feel fear when Hijikata Toshizou was around.

There was something paradoxical in that sentence, Susumu reflected, especially when the vice-commander's name was put on the same string next to his title. A lot to be feared, obviously, but it was not the case when he found himself under said fukuchou. His gaze did not waver when the color of Okita's eyes darkened. Or perhaps it was just the unsteady lantern light, swayed by the night wind from the opened screen.

When Okita shifted his gaze, the shinobi also turned to look at the man who was hovering above him. There were more of thin but discernible lines on the stern face than it usually was, and the strong presence the feared man habitually emitted was dimmer, shakier. Susumu could not see his eyes, but for some reasons he knew that Okita was winning the staring contest between the two old companions.

Had he were not also trapped in the obvious predicament, he might have found the situation exceedingly amusing. Not just everyday anyone could associate Hijikata Toshizou with the word 'losing'.

Then a voice, sharp yet dull, cut the tension with the severe ineptitude of a crude amateur. Susumu lifted his eyes just in time to see the paltriest feigning of an apologetic expression had ever graced human's face, but Okita's hand was still steady when he murmured 'Sorry, Hijikata-san' and the fleeting expression disappeared from his visage. Without giving the shinobi a chance to evaluate the situation further, the door slid closed almost as smoothly as it had opened.

But not the silence left floating in the room.

Everything about the vice-commander right now was tense. He could still feel the heat of the older man's hands which were put on the tatami at each side of his head, but they were also trembling even so slightly and the warmth was dulled by it. Dark long strands that had fallen to pool on his palm were taut, nothing like the fierce, graceful swish of them under the moonlight at battlefields. He looked up once more, witnessing how the man's jaw clenched with something more than just guilt, rapt attention still set on the closed entrance. Self-loathing would be a closer guess.

It had started as nothing dangerous at first. He had received an order to investigate a brothel at Shimabara a few days ago, and that night in the vice-commander's room, he had just finished delivering his report when all of a sudden the man lunged at him, with evidently greater strength obliging him to lie on the tatami-covered floor. Out of pure impulse, Susumu had pulled out a kunai from under his yukata but soon lowered his guard when an odd but once-well-known sensation surged through his senses. The rash, impatient caresses of rough fingertips on his skin, hasty tugs to the neckline of his yukata; they were all not unfamiliar to him. Indeed it was not their first happening, but the last one, he recalled, had been as far as a year ago.

But this night, those careless whispers of the wind were not exactly the same. He could sense something, almost like acid desperation flowing in the older man's vein, and it set impatience and viciousness into motion. One certainly could not expect much gentleness to come from a demon, but the fukuchou usually put a certain limit to himself. At least so Susumu had believed. Or probably he had only been too used to Saitou Hajime's gentler touch.

When the pair of narrow dark eyes turned to look at him, he stared at them unblinkingly. For a split of a second he thought that the vice-commander would strike or strangle him, as if the whole occurrences were his sole fault. There was contempt in those eyes, blazing them for a moment before it dimmed and died. For who it was he could not tell since Hijikata Toshizou, after all, had never been a man to point finger at others.

A dark look settled across Hijikata's face and he lifted himself to move aside, looking away in process. A word left his mouth in a tone of forced composure.

"Leave."

With slow but certain motions, Susumu pulled up the long sleeves of his yukata which had not been completely removed from his body during the earlier session, to cover his bare chest and red marks from forceful fingers marring his left shoulder. There were similar rustles of clothes stroking skin from the other side of the room while his hands were deftly collecting all sorts of small weaponries that had been scattered earlier from their appropriate places under his yukata. Without a word, he withdrew himself from the room like nothing had happened.

Silent on his place, Hijikata followed Susumu's quiet moves by his ears, having to maintain what left of dignity in him by not looking at the younger man he had taken advantage of. But at the slightest sound of the door sliding to a close, a wave of remorse hit him and before he realized it, a question had slipped past his lips.

"Do you believe that some things are irreversible, Yamazaki-kun?"

For a moment, only silence was willing to answer him. Then Susumu's voice, as soft and distant as usual, brought his answer. "Yes," a brief pause, "in particular if there are words you wish to say to someone else who is no longer there."

Hijikata almost flinched at those words as the screen smoothly glided to its place. He thought the shinobi had been speaking about his sister, but Souji – he realized, if the younger man's sporadic cough attack of was anything to go by – was probably in a similar situation. He might experience how it were to be in Susumu's place, bereft of the closest someone and also a chance to speak with that person. Eternally.

Even though there was no breach for the night wind to wrestle its way in, Hijikata shuddered. True. He could not predict how longer Souji would manage to stay with them, given his rapidly declining health. Still, for the sake of some foolish pride in him, he had destroyed that little time he had left. The same pride, he noticed wryly, was also restraining him from kicking himself at the moment.

It was wrong to just begin, but now that it had come to this way, he had little to defend himself. Fact, Yamazaki Susumu was an attractive young man – beautiful even, if he were to honestly admit to his conscience. However, it barely gave him a reason to surrender to his primal urge and assail said young man – literally as it was. That moment, something had snapped within him and Yamazaki hadn't said a word, merely looking back at him with that eerily impassive gaze of his, collapsing all of his defenses. Memories he had tried to suppress, ones he had been forced to fight down every time the shinobi was somewhere close had sprung into life.

His chuckle was bitter when it echoed in the room. Hijikata Toshizou had lost to some ridiculous long-lost memories.

They were in fact different. If Susumu was the wind, amorphous and scentless, Souji was the early morning sky that determined for the day whether to shine or to pour. And he was the earth, binding the wind eternally to his soil, yet never be able to take hold of it completely. After that he could merely look up, wishing to reach for the blue firmament while he knew there would never be a meeting between the earth and the sky. Hopes of the fools.

Not that he loved Yamazaki Susumu – the idea was purely laughable. Anything that had occurred between them was of what a master might take from owning a subordinate – an exceptionally loyal subordinate, that was. He also highly doubted that the younger man had any affection for him more than what his profession had demanded from him, but for some reasons this night, he was willing to destroy all he and Souji had slowly and carefully fostered for a pretty much non-existent love.

For a moment, the fukuchou found some difficulties to determine which of the most sordid and nastiest among scorns and curses to be coalesced with his name.

Promiscuity. Souji tolerated such behavior, but did not approve it. It was why he had such immense respect for Yamanami who held his love only for one woman. Souji would forgive him no doubt, would not change his behavior and their interaction since it was how the world moved – it was how they lived, how everything rolled to past – but the scar would remain, irremovable.

Perhaps it was the time for him to bow down. Because he could not beat an illness he didn't have the cure for. And most of all, he could not beat _time_.

Grabbing spare clothing from his closet, Hijikata left the room with hurried pace. The night was not being merciful and somehow he had little doubt that he would not find Souji inside his room, sheltered from the wind.

The Shinsengumi Inspector stepped into the night and a breath he had been holding was let out. Being in the fukuchou's room always made him hard to breathe, as if the air was stagnant, confined by the formation of walls.

But maybe it wasn't the case, his consciousness told him quietly. Maybe it was the fact that nothing had happened which relieved him.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Susumu crossed his arms in front of his chest, staring to the shadows on the dark quiet courtyard. He was the Shinsengumi Inspector. It was his duty to know everything clandestine and the relationship between his vice-commander and the captain of the first squad was already too obvious to be classified as secretive. The respect others had in the two was what kept chins from wagging, at least openly. What they had, he pondered silently, was respectable, nothing to be concealed if Hijikata had a more laidback personality.

It was why the older man's behaviour tonight disturbed him.

A small sigh caught his ears and he flicked his gaze to the source, noticing a shadow sitting on the hallway, leaning back to a wooden pillar. His lips curved into a small smirk; the red flaming hair was unmistakable for anyone else's. Soundlessly, he approached the boy, voice calm if a little smug. "Are you being punished by the vice-commander _again_?"

Tetsu turned around immediately, his right foot almost hitting a tray where a cup of tea was put upon by his side, and exclaimed in a mix of astonishment and uneasiness, "Susumu! Are you alright?"

The shinobi raised his slight eyebrows. "And the reason I should be the otherwise is?"

"No! Not like that!" the shorter boy quickly responded. "Well, I mean– no, if everything's fine– but I wasn't thinking that there was anything bad happening to you, mind that– I just think– I mean– forget it!" He finally gave up on words and sprinted to the kitchen, grabbing the tray in process. "Good night!"

Half amused, Susumu followed him to the other part of the headquarter, where his room was also located. The fact that he owned his own quarter did not seem to bother anyone. Not that he had an objection himself. Nevertheless, he sometimes wondered if it was a coincidence that his room's entrance provided him a clear sight to the kitchen. Not that it mattered now, of course.

He was trudging his way slowly, half-listening to the sound of cicadas mingling with murmurs of the night wind, when something a little louder caught his ears. Something that should not belong to the night.

There was someone inside the dojo.

Alarmed, he made his way there without a sound. As he got closer, he could distinguish constant sounds of bare footsteps and familiar swishes of shinai. At once he realized who it was.

For a moment Susumu only stood, watching the captain of Shinsengumi's First Squad practicing his oshomen with regular cadence. If it wasn't for the dark surrounding and unearthly hour, he could easily tell himself that Okita was just rehearsing as he usually did every day. His stance was firm, his control bore no hesitation as bamboo sword dived, slashing the air with exact precision – graceful, lethal. If there was any inner turmoil the older man was holding off right now, he hardly gave any sign.

The perfection of a genius, Susumu found himself contemplating. A genius with the skill of a demon and the innocence of a child.

The notion stirred something close to sympathy within him. Before he realized, he had taken a step forward, not as soundless as he usually made, to announce his being there. Okita did not react, but Susumu had little doubt that his presence was noticed. Hesitating, he opened his mouth, long explanations he had never been used to hovering on the edge of his tongue, but what which eventually fell, he recognized with so little surprise, was short, like usual.

"I do not love him."

Only more nimble strokes answered for a long while. Susumu watched the lithe figure, somewhat intimidated by the silence while his eyes observed the movement of Okita's shinai. It had gone a little faster, but even the acceleration was constant. The swordsman himself was hidden in the shadow, allowing his expression to be perfectly unreadable from where the shinobi stood.

Truly an epitome of perfection. Had he been able to distinguish clearly, Susumu was certain that the face would also be devoid of any expression.

He remained there, waiting for a clearer answer. If Okita chose to be angry, it was his right, but Susumu needed to know. At least, he would feel a little more relieved if there was anger to see, but the silence gave nothing more than pure ambiguity. Perhaps, a small malicious voice whispered, it was Okita-taichou's intention – to make this harder to bear.

As he pushed the voice to the backmost of hid mind, Susumu noticed that the shinai had come to an abrupt halt. Then, with a slow fluid motion, it was put aside, the tip almost caressing polished wooden floor, and Okita stepped into the moonlight. His face, just as the shinobi had thought earlier, was expressionless, cool and steady like his voice when he spoke.

"Love is a fickle thing, Yamazaki-san," the violet eyes looked straight at him as Okita settled his bamboo sword in front of his hakama. The stance was defensive, the captain's hands piling neatly atop his sword's hilt, but Susumu knew only too well that the shinai could reach his neck in one blink of an eye. A hint of emotion flashed in Okita's eyes, and Susumu was certain if not because of the distance they had in between, he could firmly say that it was the ghost of a wry smile curving his lips.

"But trust is irreplaceable."

The captain's voice was thick and even, clear like a bell chiming in the night. Susumu stared as the older man regarded him calmly. Perhaps he was wrong. It was not innocence; it was a sort of submission, yet oddly – at the same time – it was also control. It reminded him to the cheerful smile the genius often wore in front of everyone, and then to the pitiless air he emitted when there was a hint of danger approaching their leader, and he was forced to compare. Okita was a man of contradictions and what kind of nerve he had gained that made him foolish enough to confront the First Squad's Captain was beyond him. There was something a lot more dangerous beneath that calm facade, dormant yet alert, waiting to be stirred.

"Or are you talking about heart?" Okita suddenly asked, shrugging his shoulders with a deliberate gesture. His tone was still calm, but Susumu could easily place a sardonic edge in it. "If that is so, who owns your heart, Yamazaki-san?"

Anything originally implied aside, the question was rhetorical to say the least. Susumu could feel a slight smile appearing on his lips – either it was sadness or relief – but quickly willed it to vanish. It was his fate to be what he was and never once he had regretted it, not even when the same fate had taken his only sister from him.

"I am just a shinobi, Okita-taichou," he replied quietly. "I was not taught to have a heart. All I know is trust and loyalty, and they are owned by the fukuchou." He paused as his posture went rigid, then added, "No one will be able to change that."

Souji stared, not moving from his spot as the Shinsengumi Inspector retreated to the shadow with a formal bow, as soundless as always. He had never been able to form a well-defined opinion about the shinobi, but regardless of what it was, he noticed that there was always respect outlining it. Loyalty was not something to be taken lightly and for some reasons, he was glad to know that Hijikata-san was the one who owned the fervent loyalty of such great man. Of course there was also jealousy, but it was small, for he knew that his own loyalty also lay elsewhere.

The sound of hasty footsteps thundered in the hallway outside, pulling him out of his thoughts, and Souji felt a smile tugging the corners of his lips. Hijikata-san had never been the master of stealth, and agitation clearly did not improve the particular skill.

When the vice-chief of Shinsengumi appeared behind the threshold, Souji thought that it was – probably – yet another form of trust. He knew that this would happen and Hijikata-san did not fail him. While he did not actually understand why, Souji chose to let the thought linger for a little while. At least there was trust.

And of course, patience was a virtue.

Hijikata-san stopped at the threshold, as if not wanting to cross an invisible yet perilous border Souji had set, and said bluntly, "I don't love him."

_Twice in five minutes, _a wryly-amused voice told him, which Souji promptly ignored. He did not move, his eyes a pair of dark jewels under the moonlight, cold but smoldering, as he retaliated with a question. "And do you love me?"

Hijikata was taken aback by the not-so-simple query. He did not actually know what he had expected, but certainly not this – a question so sharp that it could hurt both of them whatever of the two answers he would choose. His eyes never left Souji who stood in waiting at the other side of the dojo. The distance they maintained in between spoke more than he initially thought.

In the end, he settled on honesty, and chose a third option.

"I don't know."

Souji still had not stirred from his place. It was the wind, Hijikata realized, which invited thin fabrics and thick raven hair to dance in the air, not Souji himself. He stared at them, at long tresses that the younger man insisted not to cut no matter what, now wildly being toyed by the wind. And Souji's expression. It was the kind of face he wore at battlefield, only now there was something more in there, like seeds of weariness mingling with what could have been patience before, had he not acted so unforgivable.

"Good," the young captain eventually responded, but his eyes darkened as they fastened an unfathomable look on him. "Because if you say yes, I don't know what I should take the earlier event as."

"But do you want me to, Souji?" The question left his mouth before he could refrain.

The younger man blinked in surprise at this, obviously not expecting a direct offer at this stage of things. Then gradually, the weariness returned, but with it came also a little smile. "We have never talked about this, have we?" Souji put his sword aside, accepting the peace offering – or ceasefire, he was not sure. His voice was still grave when he continued, "My answer to that question is also I don't know."

Again, Hijikata found himself at lost for words. He had never been an eloquent man, save for issuing orders, and delicate conversations summoned only awkwardness out of him. Vaguely he reflected that it was one of the reasons why he was not the leader of Shinsengumi. Kondou had so many qualities he did not, a man beyond doubt worthy of Souji's loyalty. He sighed heavily and mumbled, "Probably you're right. We have nothing to begin with."

To his surprise, Souji voiced a disagreement. "We have one, Hijikata-san," the younger man stated, a note of gentleness now filtering through the layers of weariness. From where he was, Hijikata could distinguish that not only his lips, but also his eyes were softened by a smile.

"It's the fact that you are here, with me, now."

"I didn't mean it that way," the fukuchou admitted, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

"But we can let it be one, can't we?" Souji's tone was light and gentle, but solemn, and the older man knew that he had attained forgiveness. Maybe not trust yet, but something close enough. He did his best to return the smile and for the first time that night, convinced himself to cross the boundary. As he traced the smooth strands of Souji's hair, his other hand covering the younger man's shoulder with the clothing he had brought, Hijikata knew that he would do anything to win the trust back.

Or perhaps, he was just not aware, that he had never lost Souji's trust in the first place.

_Excellent timing,_ Susumu thought with no small amount of amusement as he listened to the loudening of footsteps advancing to the dojo. The owner of his trust rarely failed anybody – which was expected from a man of that caliber. Quietly he slipped back into the night, not wanting to be seen by the newly arrived man. After all, he could very much guess how things would turn out at last.

When it came to Okita, his fukuchou turned into someone with so many soft spots. It was perhaps amusing to be watched, but even the shinobi knew when he must favor privacy, especially if it concerned certain people, despite his daily routine of eavesdropping for every single information.

Without a sound, he crossed the dark courtyard to the well. His hands still felt damp from what had happened earlier in Hijikata's room, as if there was dry sweat clinging onto it. He had just hauled a pail of water and was dipping his two hands into the blissful coolness when his senses warned him that he was no longer alone.

Only one person could move _nearly_ as quiet as he was. Susumu turned around and faced the exact same person his awareness had told him. Almost automatically, he called for a schedule his mind had memorized and found out that it was indeed the night when the Third Squad had their turn to go patrolling.

"Saitou-san," he greeted the other man, unconsciously wiping his hands to his yukata.

The Third Squad's Captain inclined his head slightly, acknowledging him. "Not asleep yet, Yamazaki-kun?"

It was the closest of an inquiry anyone would get from Saitou Hajime. Susumu wondered silently if the question was just a smoother edge of a scorn, since most likely the older man knew what he had done. While he was seldom asleep even at that late of an hour, wandering in the dark not wearing his shinobi attire was not among his habit and Saitou must be aware of this.

But Susumu did not answer. What kind of explanation could he give anyway? And their relationship, he completely understood, had neither faithfulness nor the privileges to own as the base, nor anything else that worth mentioning. It was simply there, existing, not intensifying yet also not withering.

_'You're just a shinobi.'_

A man with no heart and no rights, not even to claim for his own life. His sister was right, as always, he thought bitterly and looked away to the cluster of foliage nearby. Their blue flowers were now nothing but dark shadows, only a couple of fireflies fluttering above them in their small but bright glory. So often he had watched Ayu-nee squatting by the flowers, carefully pouring water to them, but not once he had bothered to say a word. _Not once,_ another voice repeated, laughing at him, mocking him.

Shinobi only owned pride, that one thing his sister had successfully defended to the end of her life, the pride to follow the order of whom they had sworn their loyalty to and to carry it out to the best of their efforts. They would never feel the sweet pleasure of being able to choose.

Very slowly, he lifted his hand to reach for the small glows. He wanted to meet her, even if just once, to tell her that she meant much more than he had ever showed, and then to ask why they had to be born in the family of Onibawanshu. Just once.

"She is not in this world anymore."

The words took him aback and his hand stopped in mid air. The other man had no expression traceable on his countenance, only his eyes staring quietly at him, and all of a sudden, Susumu realized why he had wanted to follow the fireflies. To be what he wasn't, to do what he couldn't, and to have what he didn't.

"I guess it's a good thing," he then replied softly, for his sister's sake also. It was better for her to go to where she should be, not lingering around worrying her foolish little brother.

Something he did not recognize flashed in Saito's eyes, but what Susumu did not expect was for the other man to take a step forward and take his hand in his own, placing it back to where it had been by his side, but not letting go. For the first time, as warmth seeped through his skin, the shinobi noticed that water and night wind had made his hand cold. But the thought quickly vanished when the third captain murmured, voice thin as if suppressing tides of his emotion.

"I'm selfish," he paused, then willed himself to continue with even a smaller voice, "because I want you to stay."

The realization dawned in him so suddenly that all Susumu could do was to blink. Why his sister had asked Tetsunosuke to teach him many things, why he was left behind while she had gone, and then why that little something he and the Captain of the Third Squad shared had refused to fade, he thought now he knew. It was to understand that there were more in life, things that were also valuable than just loyalty. Ichimura taught him about friendship – no, more than that – he gave him the love among siblings he had lost, and Saitou...he wasn't sure what Saitou had offered him, but it was close to the knowledge that there was someone who needed him, just as who he was, not Yamazaki the Shinsengumi Inspector.

Slowly, Susumu looked up, focusing his gaze to the other man's eyes, and saw that there was nothing wrong with being who he was – even if it was just a lonely soul with no rights to have a heart, with so little to give. Turning his hand inside Saitou's gentle grasp, his fingers caressing the rougher, larger ones, he felt that he was about to cry and then words broke into whispers.

"If I have a heart..."

Saitou looked at him, faintly curious, but he shook his head with a smile. And when the other man pulled him closer to cradle his head on his shoulders, never releasing his hand, Susumu thought that he heard his sister's quiet laughter, something he had almost forgotten. Because she had left him with so much more than the unspoken and regret.

_Because he did have a heart, and just probably, he also knew who owned it._

**_The End_**

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**Notes:** The perfect example of vagueness... Don't mind me. I'm just too obsessed with Peacemaker Kurogane that I can barely produce anything coherent. For some explanations, I want Okita to be submissive but not submissive, if you know what I mean. I think I see that in him. As for Saitou/Susumu, I notice them from the last episode when Yamanami called Tetsu to accompany him visiting the graves, which meant that Susumu and Saitou were left alone. Yes, I'm nuts for noticing that, but oh well... my favorite character deserves a good pairing and I am disinclined to set him up with Tetsu so... you can guess the rest. I prefer Saitou from manga though. He is so cool.

By the way, I hear Susumu is of the same age with Tetsu. Is that true/author faints/ ...well, in case it's actually true, let's just assume that this fic takes place far in the future where Hijikata will not be sued for molesting Susumu... And the last but not least, thank you for reading and please review :)

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**Dictionary:**

_Shinobi:_ ninja

_Fukuchou:_ vice-commander; Hijikata's status in Shinsengumi (also Yamanami's)

_Kunai:_ a small blade ninjas often use (it was what Susumu threw at Tetsu when he was eavesdropping at Susumu's conversation with Hijikata in the second episode)

_Shinai:_ bamboo sword

_Oshomen:_ a move in Kendo, which is a downward cut aimed at the opponent's forehead

_Hakama:_ the attire all of them wear when practicing (also used in Kendo these days)

_Taichou:_ captain, as in Okita the captain of Shinsengumi's First Squad


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